


His Sonata

by yuma (yuma_writes)



Category: The Brave (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, On the Run, Past Character Death, Protectiveness, Team Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 13:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14426103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuma_writes/pseuds/yuma
Summary: All he used to have was her music. But then he joined Dalton's team.





	His Sonata

**Author's Note:**

> Not related to anything: furry, wolfy or otherwise. Just a ficlet that goes nowhere in particular. Sorry.

He could hear the strains of her violin.

Darkness gave him his cover, but it also gave him his memories. It was hard to ignore them when all he could do was watch his breath crystallize into a cloud. 

_“We’re ten mikes away,"_ Top promised in his earwig. He sounded breathless. It sounded like he's been running. _"Ten mikes, Amir. You hear me? We're almost there."_

 _Take your time, but hurry_ , Amir wanted to joke. After all, it was only six militants prowling the woods in Syria's _al-Ansariyah_ mountains for who they initially thought was Aziz Najm. Idly, he wondered if they were more upset he wasn’t really the buyer, or that they left him alone in the room. 

_“Okay, I see your mark—Amir, is that blood?”_

Amir grimaced. He might have left out a detail or two when he reported his cover was burned. At the time though, running took priority.

_"When you said you were going to leave us a trail, I assumed you meant a stack of pebbles or something."_

_"Amir, how bad is—never mind. Just press down on it, all right?"_

Amir was tempted to again point out to McG that he knew how to treat himself. Being undercover meant medical care was often the pouch of bandages, needle and thread hidden in plain sight. However, McG never seemed to appreciate the reminders.

 _"Are you at a safe location to talk?"_ Preach jumped in. His usual even-toned rumble was a pitch higher this time. _"Not getting a good signal from your comms. I can't get anything from your tracker."_

After a quick glance around, Amir tipped his chin closer to the mic clipped to the back of the top buttonhole. He quietly cleared his throat.

 _"Copy that,"_ Top said briskly. _"Stay put. We'll find you."_

Amir pressed a hand against his ribs to staunch the bleeding. The slash was deep, a groove that traced his lower rib cage and around his side, but luckily not penetrative. The leader's knife had a longer reach than he estimated. A step slower, the blade would have punctured his lung. Still, he wasn't quick enough to avoid it all together. 

Or as McG might say: he zigged when he should have zagged. 

In Amir's earwig, Dalton instructed the others to fan out once they enter the woods. Amir wished he could offer maybe a remark, but voices carry this high up in the mountains. In fact, he was surprised Dalton was ignoring his own rules about noise discipline to berate Amir before about leaving out specific details.

The comms understandably went silent, but it meant Amir was alone in his head again. Her violin retreated to the background when Dalton spoke. 

Amir leaned his head back and studied the sky to distract himself from the sensation of more and more of his shirt sticking to his body. He made a face. The oozing feeling of fabric soaking up his blood left him feeling off like he was wearing someone else's clothing. In a sense, he was. At least the blood-soaked shirt was keeping him warm. Sort of.

The trees around him swayed. A breeze twirled around the branches and a violin returned to accompany it. Together, they sang into his ear. Slow and soft. 

_Andante_ , Amir's memory supplied. 

A knot caught in Amir's throat; he closed his eyes briefly. It wasn't fair he could remember this but not the shoes she wore that morning. Sometimes, it was hard to breathe when he couldn't remember what her laugh sounded like.

 _"Damn it,"_ McG abruptly growled into his earwig. _"What the hell did they poke you with?"_

Guess they found his _other_ mark. Running made the bleeding worse, although useful to paint a trail his team knew to look for. 

_"Geez, buddy,"_ Top muttered even though he knew Amir couldn't risk answering, _"Hang in there."_

Amir's wound throbbed with a heat that echoed the burning at the corners of his eyes. Amir said nothing; then and now. He knew Dalton understood. He shared a look with Dalton when Director Campbell explained the mission yesterday. He caught Dalton shaking his head at Jaz when she wanted to continue arguing against Amir going in as Najm.

The woods around Amir flickered. Amir's vision went out of focused then sharpened. He suspected he might pass out soon. 

But it was worth it.

Amir exhaled slowly. The permanent vise around his chest eased a fraction. 

One less bomber today.

The trees around Amir blurred. He dug harder into his wound until the bolt of pain revived him. He stared blankly into the woods. The trees were thin, silent specters. They were watching. They were judging.

Amir swallowed, but the lump in his throat wouldn't go away. Not wholly; maybe not ever. 

How many did this make? How many more were still out there? 

Amir pressed back against the tree until it felt like he could stay upright on his own.

The breeze whistled again, disturbing the dark shadows, reed-thin sounds slipping between the branches. Like a bow scraping across a string.

Amir wondered when he was finally done, would her violin go silent. 

Amir wondered if he would even want that.

Around Amir, insects and nocturnal creatures chittered among themselves, unbothered by his intrusion. They belonged here with the trees and the mountains where Lebanon was to his west, Incirlik to his east.

The strains of music continued in Amir's mind, drowning out the insects. He vaguely tugged his ear. He regretted the move when the melody dimmed in response. Something rattled against his chest at the loss. He preferred it to the night's noises that carried on around him as if he didn't exist. It was disturbing to know his presence contributed nothing, changed nothing—

A twig cracked.

The forest went silent.

Amir slowly pulled out his weapon.

In Amir's ears, a string of notes returned and quickened. 

The Sig was cool in Amir's grasp, no longer hot from when he fired seven bullets into their makeshift detonation devices. His gun felt lighter with only five rounds left.

Amir peered around the tree serving as his hideout. He held the Sig with both hands, heedless of the tacky feeling of his own blood smeared on the metal. 

Six shapes lurched in the dark. They were noisy; they were uncaring of the destruction they left in front and behind them. They lashed out at every tree, twig and bush as if they were striking him. 

A voice snapped out among the group and everyone stopped. 

Amir's heart pounded against his ribs, too fast to distinguish beats. A _staccato_ pace she used to like. She used to bounce her bow on the strings with a delighted look on her face. What had she called it? 

_Jeté_.

Amir pressed his arm tighter against the slash under his ribs. His gun inched higher. His mind tried to recall where everybody was, calculating how many shots he could fire before the surviving few kill him.

The six hostiles fanned out, their AKMs swinging out like machetes. They hacked at the bushes; their guns swinging towards Amir every so often.

 _Jeté. Jeté_.

Amir stopped breathing. He tried not to think about how loud blood could get splattering to the dried leaves below his feet.

Leaves crunched as one stepped towards Amir's spot.

 _Jeté. Jeté. Jeté_.

Eyes squinted to see despite a moonless sky. He was close enough Amir could see the whiskered jaw clenching in frustration.

Another step towards him; it was sharp pitched like brittle bone shattering.

Amir inched back, his shoulders wiggling, his body leaning away from sight. His jacket caught briefly on the tree. A strip of bark, snagged by his sleeve, started to peel. He stopped before the piece could completely pull away with a dry _snap_. 

Feet shifted among leaves and withered grass as the militant considered the spot he stood. Amir imagined eyes drifting closer and closer to where he was hiding.

Amir's Sig steadied as he rested it against his collarbone. He mentally counted. 

Four shots. He'll be able to get four shots out before the other two can locate him.

In Amir's ears, her violin went silent. Shame. It would have been nice to have it be the last thing he hears.

A burst of flapping wings exploded by Amir's right ear and shrieked past. Something flew out from behind Amir and zipped towards the militant. 

Startled, someone shouted. Another fired wildly at the flying object.

Amir flinched as wood splintered next to his face. Something scratched his cheek. He burrowed harder against the tree.

Something screeched disgruntled and perturbed. The six hostiles argued. One of them grumbled about the bird. No one looked Amir's way again.

Amir's mouth pressed together as he tracked the shapes lumbering past him. Angry syllables trailed behind them. When the last of them faded into echoes, Amir cautiously exhaled. He returned the Sig to the back of his pants. With shaking hands, Amir patted himself to make sure all he earned was the original knife wound and realized his earwig fell into his collar. 

_"…hell was that?"_

_"Amir? What's your status? Amir?"_

_"Guys, I think I can pinpoint where that came from—"_

_"Amir, did you get hit? Shit, he still can't—hey, can you like…give us a signal? Hoot like an owl or something?"_

Amir winced at the clamor of hisses in his ear the moment he slipped the earwig back in. He tapped his mic three times; he couldn't risk speaking.

The earwig thankfully quieted. Until…

 _"Amir, you're in so much trouble later,"_ Jaz half growled, half hissed.

Amir's eyebrows rose. How was this his fault? He mentally sighed and tapped the mic twice in reply. He ignored the urge to say something into the mic. Hearing them was an orchestra he didn't expect to miss or long to join in. It was strange to assume a voice would be on the other side anytime he looked for it. It still startled him; every time he tapped on comms, there was someone quick to answer. There were times he remembered it was weeks before he could risk contacting his handler. Then, the only sound occupying his thoughts was her violin. 

A corner of Amir's mouth lifted as he reviewed Jaz's threat, both empty and strangely comforting. He was never going to hear the end of this.

Jaz argued the compound wasn't ideal. There was no line of sight, half of the floors were sunken underground and the structure was surrounded by trees and nothing else.

Preach wasn’t confident their trackers would work in the mountains. He spent the entire flight to Syria with his head bent over their comms, determined to increase their range so they would at least have audio. 

McG thought they should have arranged to meet in the city instead or at least bring him along. The way his brown eyes narrowed and occasionally drifted to Amir's right knee, Amir knew the medic wasn't convinced Amir was completely recovered. A nasty tumble in Mosul last week left Amir hobbling. For days, McG orbited around him to lend a hand to haul Amir up to his feet from his prayer rug. 

Top wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Amir going in alone again. 

Amir cautiously rolled his shoulders back. He settled against the tree and smiled to himself. Despite the burning on his side and the lingering throb on his knee, Amir found himself relaxed and calm. It was an unfamiliar feeling. It took him a few moments before he recognized it for what it was. 

He wasn’t alone now.

Out there, his team slipped into the woods as quiet as night. Out there, six men were unaware of their fates. Out there, his team was making their way to Amir, determined not to leave him behind.

The violin returned, soft and serene, swirling around him like a faraway voice calling his name.

Amir breathed in. He breathed out. This time, he was comfortable to remain where he was and wait. 

As time stretched, the whisper of a new melody serenaded him. Its name was at the tip of his tongue. 

The surroundings started getting darker around the edges again. Amir pressed down on his wound. It burned, but it also jolted him out of the haze he was drifting into. He grimaced as warm blood dribbled thickly over his fingers and into his trousers. Top wasn't going to be happy about this. He has a funny feeling the others would share the same sentiment.

 _“Tango one and two are down,”_ Jaz announced so matter-of-factly, it was reassuring.

Preach and Top murmured similarly. Amir wondered about McG when he heard a rustle of leaves.

The music stopped again.

Amir watched as a shadow detaches from the trees. A soft crunch of leaves telegraphed its movements. Amir remained where he was. He pulled his weapon out. He wished his hand was steadier. He was going to miss with his first shot like this. Chances are there wouldn't be a second shot.

The moonlight revealed McG, hunched low with his pack, his 416 oscillating left and right. With his night scope on, McG made an oddly shaped shadow. 

Amir waited, watching McG search fruitlessly. He tucked his Sig away when it didn't look like anyone was behind McG.

 _“Damn it, Amir now’s not the time to be invisible,”_ McG groused in his earwig.

Amir rolled his eyes. With a grimace, he took out a pebble from the ground. There was a moment when he thought he was going to end up with the rock at the base of the tree instead. He rested against the tree he sheltered behind and took a deep breath. He leaned around the tree and threw the stone. 

McG started when it bounced off his shoulder. McG whipped around. Amir could imagine his eyebrows rising up.

"Wait, I looked over there," McG grumbled. "I didn't see you. How you do that?"

"Trade secret." Amir carefully wended around the tree and tangle of dried roots. 

The ground abruptly disappeared. Amir staggered. His right knee buckled. 

McG hopped forward and caught Amir's elbow. He crowded into Amir's personal space as he shouldered his 416, his other hand now deep in his cargo pockets.

“Jaz has the exit route covered. Top and Preach are in the van. It'll be safer to patch you up there. Just something to stop the bleeding for now,” McG whispered. He passed bandages to Amir. "How bad is it?"

"It isn't," Amir muttered as he palmed the thick padding over his wound. Amir grimaced. He suspected it wasn't a good job judging McG's huff after his cursory inspection. It would have been easier to patch up if it wasn't so dark and McG gave him back his elbow. 

"You can let go. I'm fine."

McG grunted. "Uh huh. You think you're okay to walk?”

Amir nodded. McG didn’t release his elbow anyway.

“I got him, guys. Heading your way now,” McG rasped into his comms. "Tell Preach don't be stingy with the heat in the van." 

The jumble of voices in Amir's earwig was welcomed but at the same time distracting. His head pounded trying to pick out who was saying what. He huffed and murmured, "I'm okay."

McG scoffed. "He will be." His 416 swiveled; his night scope covered half his face. It gave McG a strange and unfamiliar profile, but the hand on his elbow felt familiar enough. 

"Moving. Five minu—actually, better make that eight." 

McG squeezed Amir's elbow briefly. "Come on. If we hurry, I think Top's thermos still has some of the good coffee. You wouldn't want Preach's and Jaz will bite your hand off if you touch hers."

Amir snorted wearily. His bones suddenly felt three times heavier. His ears rang hollow. He looked around the woods.

McG prodded Amir behind him. "Someone coming?"

"No, I was trying to hear if…nothing. Never mind." Amir shook his head, regretting it when he ended up crashing hard into McG.

"Whoa, easy. I gotcha."

Amir waited for the world to settle. He felt McG fumble for his wrist to check his pulse.

"Well?" Amir panted. He dropped his head against McG's vest. The clips in the pouches were hard against his cheek, but it was too hard to move away just yet. 

"What's the prognosis?" Amir swallowed convulsively. The world was spinning too much to decipher McG's expression. 

McG grunted. "You're an idiot, but Jaz and I already knew that." 

"Ouch," Amir complained halfheartedly.

McG shook Amir's elbow. "And you'll live, thanks to me."

"Modest as usual," Amir said dryly, but it ended up sounding wispy in his ears.

"Hey." McG stepped in closer. "Seriously, man, need me to carry you?"

"Don't. Please. I can walk." Amir straightened up. He took a step forward to prove his point. 

Darkness became darker again. 

McG tugged Amir against him. His hand around Amir's elbow now snaked under his shoulders to grip the other arm.

"Then again," Amir muttered. "Coffee sounds good right about now."

"No way. I got a couple of IV bags with your name on it. Let's go." McG balanced his 416 with one arm, the other looped around Amir's middle. 

"Thanks for finding me," Amir mumbled. He blinked blearily, but everything was a mottled quilt of shadows and dark shapes.

"Like I had a choice," McG retorted. "All that hand-wringing Top and Preach were doing?"

Amir chuckled weakly. 

Around them, the insects and birds returned and carried on like he was never here.

Amir's eyelids drooped.

"Don't fall asleep on me." McG gave Amir a careful shake. "That's rude."

"Coffee sounds really good right now," Amir whispered. 

McG's arm tightened around Amir. "Stay awake the whole way and I bet I can convince Jaz to give you her thermos."

Amir's mouth ticked up at the corner. Jaz made the best coffee and she always shared, just not with McG. "Deal." 

McG grunted, sealing the wager. “All right, man. Let’s go home.”

Amir stilled.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just thought it sounded good,” Amir whispered. In fact, it was music to his ears. Amir stumbled next to McG, trusting he would lead the way. 

Behind him, a violin bade them farewell with a sweet _cadenza_.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a 560-word ficlet for The Brave Olympics on Twitter. It didn't win and was just going to the Recycle Bin, but thought I would tweak it and see where it goes.
> 
> 2000+ words later...
> 
> So yea, figured I might as well post it now before this puppy becomes a Saint Bernard. Mind you, Saint Bernards are cute, but OMG. LOL.
> 
> #TheBrave #RenewTheBrave
> 
>   
> Feedback is like cookies. I _like_ cookies!  
> 


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